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Declaration of Independence

On my health-iversary I’ll share the wellness lessons I learned this year. You’ll see another picture added to my Before & After-After-After Mosaic of Maintenance.

But this year I’m making what feels like a fairly significant tweak:

You won’t see my feet on a scale.

My first and second anniversary posts had scale pictures, and (to be honest) I’d kinda like to post one again this year.

Those pictures give me a bit of swagger, a bit of proof for my followers.

A sweet little shot of narcissistic validation.

It kills the demons that whisper “If you don’t prove it, people will think you’re hiding something!”

Well, this year I’m taking a stand against the scale, and you’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I live in Weight Maintenance Land.

Here’s why:

I want to lead by example. For my clients, for my kids, for anyone whose Scale Addiction is dragging them down.

I won’t feed the beast anymore.

How can I tell anyone not to stress the scale when I do a victory lap with a picture of my own scale?

I don’t want to be a part of the problem. I’m Team Healthy & Strong, and I’m afraid I’ve been subbing in for Team Scale Addiction.

I’ve been a Goal Coach for over a year now. Part of my job description is helping clients navigate the choppy waters of of scale-frustration. I know this brand of torture all too well, and I want to pull others through it.

I want to stand on a table and beat drums until everyone hears me:

Stupid scales only tell a fraction of the story!

My status as a female human means my scale bounces up approximately 5 lbs every month. These pounds are not real. I know they’re not real. They’re hormonal and they go away again. But seeing that jacked-up number can make me feel dark and stormy all day.

Ain’t nobody got time for that mess!

I tell my clients not to stress the numbers too much. I advise attention to how your clothes fit, how strong you feel, how much leaner you look.

“Don’t put too many eggs in that number basket. Anything from hormones to salt to added muscle can skew that number. Don’t let it get you down. Keep going! Don’t give up! You’re doing so much better than that silly scale says!”

But I can show infographics like these til I’m blue in the face.

That spinning dial beneath our feet has teeth that can shred all logic.

I’ve lost clients to the scale. I coach them with great excitement as they get healthier, stronger, leaner, bravely pushing towards their goals.

But when the scale won’t tumble off the cliff, the sense of defeat often leads to surrender.

I have zero judgement on this point. I surrendered many, many times before I found my rhythm.

When you’re busting your ass to lose weight and the scale is moving at a glacial pace, it hurts. When the number creeps up, it hurts. And – especially dangerously – when those numbers do fall off a cliff, there is a heady rush of joy.

It’s nothing short of addictive.

As with any addiction, knowing that our drug hurts us doesn’t stop us from chasing our fix. We armor up and head into battle – determined to wrestle the beast into submission. We laugh it off whenever we can.

We need these jokes. Because we don’t want to cry.

That’s so effed up.

Please don’t get me wrong – the scale is an important tool, especially if you’re living in an unhealthy BMI zone.

But it’s just a tool.

You don’t check in with your screwdrivers every day, do you? So why check in with your scale every day?

My Declaration of Independence is not one I could have made when I was losing all that weight.

But now that I’m in Maintenance Land, I’m ready.

I still wear the same size 4 I achieved almost 3 years ago.

On my anniversary you will see my maintenance in my beloved red dress.